At the Maker's Side
by GabrielleduVent
Summary: A humourous take on the Darkspawn Chronicles DLC. When Alistair is killed by the hurlock vanguard, he meets Duncan, Riordan and the possible Warden candidates. What do they have to say to the Warden King? Rated T for language. One-shot.


AN: This is, in no way, Alistair bash; I just found him ludicrous when I played Darkspawn Chronicles, not to mention just how pathetic he looked at the very end. I love the ex-Templar just as much as any other character, but his terrible combat planning made me laugh for some time.

The characters belong to Bioware; _Bigby's Greater Bitch Slap_ actually comes from D&D.

Lastly: This is a humour fic for quick entertainment value only. It's silly, and I've been doing Fourier transforms for six hours so my brain is fuzz. You have been warned.

Alistair Theirin died, in a rather dramatic, if pathetic manner, when a certain Hurlock Vanguard decided that the most novel way to end the life of a Warden-King was to chop its head off. The Hurlock, for all its ingeniousness with its mettle, wasn't particularly bright when it came to gruesome death methods. Having the archdemon step on the damn puny thing would have been amusing to watch, but oh no. The dragon flew off, howling in anger. It would have been _fun_ to step on the puny human who had been a constant thorn in its side.

Anyway, the soul of the last Theirin flew through the Fade and to the place of the Maker, where there were grim faces waiting for him.

"Um," he said, unsure of what to say.

Duncan shook his head. "I know you were kind of stupid, boy, but you messed things up. Grandly."

Alistair fought back tears. That was such a mean thing to say.

"I mean, you brought a dog to the final battle," Duncan continued. "Mabari are brave and fearless, but did you really think pitting a dog against a fearsome archdemon was such a good idea? Please don't tell me you actually did." He turned to his friend since his Joining. "Riordan, what were you thinking when you allowed him to bring a _dog_ to the final battle? I told you the boy wasn't bright! I thought you knew better, mister!"

Riordan recoiled. "I was busy trying not to get killed by the stupid hurlocks," he protested venomously. "And for your information, Alistair insisted, no, threatened that if he didn't get to bring his pet along he'll just turn and leave. And since it was rather obvious that I'll dramatically fall off the dragon and plummet to a horrendous death, I needed a backup!"

An elfmaid in a robe, who looked as if someone had stuck a whole lemon in her mouth, spoke up. "You know he thought it was a brilliant idea, Duncan. Morrigan was right. He's an idiot." She looked at the Warden King pointedly. "He sucks as a leader."

Her companion, also in a robe, looked at her. "He was wearing pants when he died. I think that's one for him."

"Psh. He was NOT wearing any pants under that Templar skirt, let me tell you. He died wearing a wrap-around skirt."

"Wait, do I know you?" The Warden-King asked, flummoxed. "How do you know Morrigan?"

"They were the possible recruits," Duncan explained. "Unfortunately, they did not make it to be a Grey Warden due to the contrivance of this story, but needless to say, they are less than impressed with your performance."

"Leliana was very impressed with my performance!" The man cried indignantly. "She was amazed with my stamina!"

The dwarven male looked as if he was about to pull out an axe and chop his head off. The King quickly shut up. However, the dwarven female with a tattoo on her cheek did not look placated by his proffered silence.

"Hang on a minute," she said, raising her right hand. "So you mean to tell us that you did ALL that work while banging Leliana as an added bonus? While if one of us would have survived, you would have just sat back and made us do all the dirty work?"

"Um, yeah."

A human male with a sword on his back glared at him so fiercely he cringed. "I'm sorry?" Alistair squeaked.

"I say we kill him," said an elf. He had blond hair and bright blue eyes, and was dressed as most city elves were; in homespun with patches. His wiry stature told the king that he was probably some kind of a rogue. "Hack him into pieces and feed him to his hound."

"Don't be an idiot, Darrian," said the mage, the human male with brown hair. "He's already dead. We're all dead. And soon horde of Fereldan will join us." He grinned evilly. "Maybe the loyal Fereldans will do our job instead. I'm pretty certain they weren't pleased that this incompetent piece of quivering jelly managed to botch up their entire country on that very last minute."

"I did my best!" The king cried, but no one was listening. One of the mages absent-mindedly threw _Bigby's Greater Bitch Slap_ at him and the king toppled backward, and was blown a good five yards away from where he was previously standing.

"Your best does not mean anything, Alistair."

He cringed. He knew that voice so well. Oh yes. That mocking voice with just the right amount of dripping sarcasm to make him feel insignificant and unworthy of even breathing. Which, from the way people were looking at him, was what they thought.

Man, his life after death sucked.

Morrigan appeared from what was now a growing crowd, her eyes ablaze. "You brought me into this. You had sex with me and then you let me die! I knew you were the biggest failure ever since Flemeth tried to make a patchwork quilt, but by the Maker, which I don't believe in, you're beyond redemption in your idiocy! What do you have between your ears? Leliana?"

Well, Leliana was predominantly what he thought about, so he kept his mouth shut. Natia, however, heard the shocking news.

"You BANGED TWO GIRLS?" She shrieked. "No wonder you sucked, you pathetic dickwad!"

"You think I'm pathetic, don't you!"

"I think a brain dead roasted nug could have done better!"

Another elf with markings on her face and a bow on her back seemed perplexed with the sudden increase of the Dalish elves in the afterlife. "Where in the name of the Creators did they come from?" Lyna wondered. "It almost seems as if the entire tribe was massacred!"

Neria poked her. "That's what happened, silly. Thanks to this blondie here."

If looks could kill, Alistair would have been doubly sliced, fried, roasted, served for dinner, spat out, and then chewed by Barkspawn by now.

"Oh well," said Aedan. "You know what? I don't even care that the bastard of Howe murdered my entire family and stole our lands anymore. He had it for a grand total of eleven months thanks to this snotwipe. Much good that did him." He snorted.

"Is anyone appreciating the fact that I gathered an army and led a march to Denerim?" Alistair protested. Everyone stared at him.

"No," they said in unison.

"Any of us could have done that," Natia pointed out. "And we wouldn't have let the human lord die, so that's one up for us."

"How did he die, anyway?" asked Morrigan. "I was wandering around The Fade too long to properly see his gruesome death."

"Meh," Duran said in a tone that clearly said he was mocking Alistair in any way possible. "Some ugly Hurlock came over and chopped his head off. The dragon was mighty pissed, let me tell you. Not that the dragon would have felt anything if he stepped on his head. Since he has nothing but air in it, it would have just deflated." At this, several people laughed.

Darrian looked annoyed. "Why couldn't the darkspawn haul him off and eat him?" he demanded.

"You honestly think this shemlen looks edible?"

"Darkspawn eats anything," said the city elf defensively.

"Not this one, it won't," Lyna retorted. "Even darkspawn avoids him."

Alistair was blubbering.

Neria spoke up. "I was hoping the darkspawn would drag him off and turn him like they did to that dwarf girl. She turned into a giant octopus thing with lots of tentacles and nipples."

Daylen poked her. "He can't become a broodmother. He's a dude, although he acts like a sissy girl."

"Fine. Broodfather, then."

Duncan intervened the "let's insult Alistair and see who can make him cry first" competition. "Neria, darkspawn do not mate. All they need are females to produce offspring."

"Alistair's a girl," she deadpanned.

"You don't say…" Darrian looked at the king and began to laugh. "Look, he's about to cry!"

Alistair was deeply, deeply hurt. It didn't help that even Duncan had joined this motley band of youths. Duncan was the only person who cared for him! And now the swarthy Warden had turned on him, when he had tried so hard!

"By the way, where are your new robes?" Duran was asking the witch.

"What new robes?"

"Didn't Alistair find you new robes? They were in Flemeth's hut along with the grimoire all along," the dwarf explained. "Please don't tell me you guys went into battle with your initial equipment gear. That's not even brave anymore. That's just downright stupid."

"Or suicidal," added the female dwarf.

Morrigan's eyes blazed again. Unfortunately, Aedan Cousland thought it necessary to point out the dreadfully obvious that Alistair Theirin was, in fact, dressed in his Templar armour. And that Barkspawn didn't have any makeup on it.

"You didn't equip them!" The young Cousland was literally rolling around on the floor, laughing. "You went to fight the freaking archdemon in your original gear? Dude, you are one brave soldier."

"I didn't know…"

"I'm surprised you know anything," Daylen observed. "Your brain must have memory storage of what, two bytes?"

"Maybe even less," Lyna added.

"Well, we have to do something," said the elfmaid kindly. "Look, we're being mean to him. Maybe he can have a chance to redeem himself."

"What? How?" Alistair asked, not realizing the sinister glint in the mage's eyes. Everyone else saw it, except him. That was what you got for being happily oblivious.

"Well, Loghain's here somewhere, isn't he?" The mage smiled. "So here is our sentence: we hereby command you to become Loghain's bitch boy. You must not wear anything but a dress, and you must dance remigold in the said dress whenever Loghain says the word Maric!"

Considering Loghain's unhealthy obsession with the deceased king, everyone could safely assume that Alistair would be dancing in a dress for all eternity.


End file.
